The Rain
by PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: A short Farkas x Bosmer OC oneshot, dancing in the rain


**please note: i wrote this in like 20 minutes while drunk off my ass. If there are any grammatical or pov mistakes, please disregard them, although i think i've caught most of them. Enjoy!**

A fight. She could have guessed, Nords and their fights, very common in this region.

"Are those two at it again?" A rough voice, an older man. "Come on now, watch the footwork. Keep your balance."

Two people stood at one end of the long room, a Nord with hide armor, a Dunmer with similar armor but no helmet. Several other people stood around them, watching, cheering, throwing out random advice. She watched for a moment before the Nord successfully knocked the Dunmer to the ground and proclaimed her victory. Suddenly, it was like no one could be bothered anymore and everyone just wandered off, some sitting at the long table, some leaving the room entirely. The older man who had spoken earlier sat at a table, a Nord with one dead eye.

She walked past and he grumbled something about watching her that she chose not to catch. She wandered her way downstairs, noting an impeccable amount of gold and other notable loot. She didn't like to steal, but hey, times are hard, and when people leave bags of gold lying about it's almost like they're asking for it to find its way into her pocket.

A Nord with a thick blond beard met her as soon as she opened the door, mentioning not having seen her before, yada yada. She walked past him in exploration, wandering her way down the long hallway until she saw a young Nord sitting across from an elderly man at a small round table. They were talking about "the call of the blood" and she frowned softly in confusion, lingering in the doorway. They stopped talking and turned towards her expectantly so she approached. The elderly man looked at her. "I would like to join the Companions," she said, her voice steady.

"Would you now? Let me get a look at you. Hmm, yes, a certain strength of spirit."

"Master," spoke the other man, "you're not truly considering accepting _her_?"

Her ears twitched and burned slightly. Perhaps he did not mean it to be a matter of race, but her history with the Nords thus far has not proven to be very…welcoming. She could feel the skin across her cheeks darkening with an angry blush.

"I am nobody's master, Vilkas. And last I checked, we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

Vilkas begrudgingly agreed to test her might. She could tell from the way he held himself that he didn't believe in her abilities, but she quickly showed him what's what out in the training yard.

It wasn't long before she had become blood, before she had found the last shard of Wuuthrad, before Kodlak had died, before she ventured to Ysgramor's Tomb to free his spirit, before she had become the Harbinger. Another year and she had defeated Alduin without choosing sides in the war, choosing instead to let the two factions fight themselves for their own claim over Skyrim. When Vilkas had asked her why she did not choose sides, she responded with a simple, "It is not my place," and most of the Companions respected her choice. After all, she was a stranger to Skyrim, a Bosmer who had been unwittingly captured and nearly executed. It made sense for her to stay out of the problems of this nation.

It was the anniversary of her succession to the role of Harbinger. Many in Skyrim had come to respect her, but none more so than the Companions themselves. It was raining that evening, enough that the cool air picked up a deeper coolness than before, chilling them all to the bone. She insisted on feasting outside herself, and for some reason most of them joined her despite the extra cold. Vilkas, Aela, Farkas, and several others joined her in the outdoors. They feasted and drank for hours into the morning, the rain never ceasing.

A few hours after the moon reached its summit at midnight, she rose from her seat, a deep blush across her high cheekbones, a slight glimmer of alcohol in her dark eyes. She walked out from under the protection of the awning and into the rain. Everyone watched her for a moment as she just stood there before she slowly began to sway her hips, her head, her shoulders in a silent song. No one moved for a moment before someone picked up a lute and began to play a song, and she began to dance in beat with it. Farkas couldn't help but keep his eyes glued to her, his meade and beef forgotten. The rain soaked her clothes, clinging them to her muscular body, her hair falling out of its usually neat bun. The lutist picked up the pace, and she matched it beat for beat, her body thriving and thrusting as she saw fit.

Farkas was walking towards her before he knew what he was doing. He had positioned himself across from her, matching her movements before he even noticed the rain soaking through his hair and armor. She looked up at him in the moonlight, a wide, toothy grin spreading across her face and she changed her steps to dance with him. Theirs was a predatorial dance, one meant for more private audiences but neither of them cared about the rest of The Companions watching them. The lutist began to play a jaunty peace, one that was fast paced and borderline sexual, and the two moved in pace with it. She had her arms raised above her head, her simple green tavern dress clinging tightly to her body, and she swung her hips with a vigor that he rarely saw. He circled her predatorily, his eyes swallowing her body inch by inch, before he stepped close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a laugh escaping her lips, and they danced faster, closer, more passionately before ending the song in a tight spin and low dip, leaving them both breathless. As she leaned scarily close to the ground, she gazed into his eyes which bored into her own with a deep passion, and she cupped his neck. Their lips were touching within moments and he pulled her to her feet and into his body, devouring her lips hungrily.

A few moments must have passed because Vilkas awkwardly cleared his throat, alerting the couple that the lutist had, in fact, stopped playing, and everyone was awkwardly watching them. Titania smirked softly and took Farkas's hand, dragging him inside and to her quarters, much to the chagrin of everyone who had witnessed this event.


End file.
